Some Doors
by Kiwi Werewolf
Summary: A short story about a hide and seek game in the Pink Palace turning into something slightly more sinister... thank you to my amazing friend for the cover art!


"So, what're we doing today?" Wybie asks cheerily, oblivious to the rain, dismounting his motorbike and carrying it up the front door of the house so as not to get it wet. He tries to hug Coraline but she dodges.

"Ew, don't! You're all wet and gross!" Coraline yelps, jumping back a few steps, much to Wybie's amusement, and he laughs.

"And muddy, don't forget the mud," Wybie traces a gloved finger down the front of his fireman's jacket and shows it to her, glistening with the damp earth. "Fell off my bike."

"Wow, guess I can't say I'm surprised, Why-Were-You-Born," Coraline sighs as they duck through the door. It is warm inside, and smells heavily of paint. "Oh, great. You're dripping mud all over the place. Mum's going to pack a fit; you know she hates mud. And you better not touch any of the walls – we've just started painting the lounge."

The two trek up to Coraline's bedroom. It hasn't really changed much since Coraline battled the Beldam about a month ago. Same bed covers and toys and walls and floors. But Coraline has put up a few drawings, a few posters (including a very gothic-looking one depicting a severed Barbie head bearing the legend underneath DEATH TO BARBIE). There are also a few new pictures – pictures of Coraline and her family, pictures of her old friends from Michigan, pictures of Coraline and Wybie and the group they hang out with at school. Coraline had fast found a place in the school as the rebellious new girl who hung with the weirdoes and still managed to maintain slightly-better-than-average grades, especially in her art classes, where she is one of the top students.

"Just wait here, I'll go get you a towel or something," Coraline sighs. "And stay off my bed." She leaves the room and returns in record time with his towel.

"Hey, thanks Jonesy," Wybie mutters, towelling his wet dark brown hair. "Nice to see you too."

"Yeah. So, what're we doing today?" Coraline asks. She's wearing her sleeveless jacket and her orange-and-red shirt, although the sleeves are rolled up, and her jeans. Her feet are bare, showing purple toenails.

"Duck-duck-goose?" Wybie asks sarcastically. "Pin the tail on the donkey? Musical chairs?"

"Remind me why I invited you over."

"Because you enjoy my amazing and simulating conversation and my sexy skull mask," Wybie suggests. His voice changes a little as he says 'sexy', as if he hasn't used the word before and is nervous and unsure if it is appropriate or not.

"You mean that stupid piece of metal you stick over your face and use to stick out like a sore thumb?" Coraline asks, lying down on her bed. Wybie takes his jacket off, since that was the wettest and muddiest part about him, and lies next to her. He's wearing a baggy green shirt over his traditional shorts and sneakers.

"I do _not_ stick out like a sore thumb," he argues playfully.

"Yes you do. I could find you anywhere. If not from your mask then from your overwhelming body odour." Coraline looks at him, smiling wickedly. Their faces are close to each other but neither of them is thinking about anything romantic. They are both at the magical age of eleven, where awkwardness between boys and girls has not quite formed yet, and romance is yucky and something that is best left to adults.

"Well, how about we put that to the test?" Wybie offers, untroubled by the body odour remark. It is true that Wybie does have a certain smell around him, although not one of sweat – one of pine trees, and rain, and dirt. "Coraline Jones, I challenge you to a game of Hide and Seek."

"Oh come on, only five-year-olds play that game." Coraline rolls her warm brown eyes. "Come on, suggest something interesting."

"You chicken?" Wybie asks. "You scared that you won't be able to find me?"

"No, I just–"

Wybie jumps up at this, and starts making very bad chicken noises. "Bok-bok-bok!" he clucks, flapping his arms.

"Wybie, shut up…"

"Bok-bok-bok–"

"FINE! I'll play your stupid game," Coraline groans. "You really need to grow up, Why-Were-You-Born." She buries her face in her legs and hugs them. "Ten… nine…"

Wybie runs from the room, frantic. He quickly considers hiding in her parents' room, and then decides against it. They don't like it when the kids go in there. Wybie slides as silently as he can downstairs, considers the hot water cylinder cabinet and once again decides against it.

"…six… five.. four…" Coraline's voice says faintly from upstairs.

Wybie makes a little whining noise in his throat. He takes one desperate lunging step in the direction of the kitchen, stops himself, goes the other way and ducks into a room without thinking.

"…two… one… I'M COMING TO GET YOU, WHY-WERE-YOU-BORN!" Coraline bellows from upstairs, happily but in a sinister way too. Wybie has learnt from past experiences that Coraline can sometimes take games a little too seriously. He remembers once, they were playing Flags in PE, and someone was running back to their side with the flag when they stepped out of the boundary line while she was pursuing him. He kept running and she yelled at him, and he scored a point but Coraline was yelling and he yelled back. It probably didn't help that the runner, Marco Freeman, was a total emotional hothead. They actually ended up getting in a fight, and the next day Marco had come to school with a dark bruise high on his cheekbone.

"Oh, man," Wybie mutters, looking desperately around the room. Of course he picked the hardest room to hide in. This is the room with the snowglobes and the fireplace. There's a decent-sized kind of closet/wardrobe thing on the right side of the room, but that would be a very obvious place to hide in.

"WYBIEEEEEEEEEE!" Coraline bellows from somewhere, downstairs now.

Wybie frantically looks around for any other options. "Oh man, come on come on come _on…"_ he grits his teeth.

That's when he sees the tiny door, open a little, in the left side of the room. He's never seen it open before. He knows Coraline told him not to go anywhere near it but… the Beldam is dead now, right?

Wybie kneels down beside the door and opens it. It is not bricked up; all he can see is black. "Awesome," Wybie decides, and climbs inside and starts using his fingertips to close the door as far as it will close without actually closing.

The door slams shut.

"Dammit," Wybie whispers, his heart-beat racing, his hands shaking like they always do when something scary or upsetting is happening. He turns around and fumbles at the door but nothing happens. "Aargh," he mutters in anger. "Dammit!"

He lies down on the ground, wondering what's happening. This room is cold. He can't hear Coraline outside anymore. Maybe he should yell? Wybie decides that that might be a good idea. He takes a deep breath… and then lets it out in a scream when he feels the cold metallic fingers on his leg. He instantly draws his leg back. "Wh-who's there?" he asks, scared, his hazel eyes scanning the blackness fruitlessly, panicked.

Dark female laughter, vibrating around the cold, dark place. This is laughter that slices the skull and has the effect of sending an army of kitchen knives under your skin; the kind of voice that can send a strange hot flush all up your body and yet at the same time make you feel cold all over.

"I'm your Other Mother," says the Beldam, in the dark. "Welcome home."

**AN:**

_Should I continue this? I wrote it as a one-shot but I have the feeling it could develop into something more… If anyone actually ends up reading this, let me know in the reviews! Thanks!_


End file.
